


for him.

by disorderedorder



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Double Vaginal Penetration, F/M, Post-TLJ, Pre-Established Kylux, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: you don't have to say I love you to say I love you.





	for him.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me like three days to do, happy new year, new year new works

Before you left Canto Bight, you were the highest-paid escort in the entire city. For years, you held the arms of dignitaries, politicians, royalty, and wealthy smugglers, visited their suites, and were paid handsomely for your companionship and services. When you began working as a high-class escort, you were only eighteen and new to the practice, with plenty of older, more experienced escorts vying to kick you out of the city in fear you’d steal their clientele. But in such a cutthroat world of gambling, high-stakes tabletop games, and competition for the eyes of men, women, and inhumans alike, you learned quickly, and by the time you were twenty, you had built not only your reputation, but your clientele to a staggering rate. Soon, requests for your company were being divided into hourly intervals of time, with your price for an entire night enough to buy a small ship. Wealthy beyond imagination, and having left your agency, you were free to manage both your clients and your finances freely, making enough credits to hire bodyguards to ensure your safety. 

 

Being cut off from the worlds outside Canto Bight was impossible, since the city was a hub for beings of all kinds and from every corner of the galaxy to come and share their stories and experiences over high-stakes tables. You learned an excessive amount from simply eavesdropping, and even more when you began to ask your clients. When you were still working for an agency, you were limited in communication with others, since you were only taught how to entice with your looks, and not your words, which was something you hated. If you were being honest, you absolutely hated how the agency sent out their escorts and the way they more or less advertised you. The only time you were allowed on the gambling floor was when they sent you out in a group, all of you in similar outfits, usually little more than lingerie and prop-style accessories, and you were paraded around for patrons to look at. They paid your madams, not you, and you were never allowed to turn down an undesirable client. The moment you left the agency, you invested a good amount of your credits in bespoke dresses, shoes, and anything that would set you apart from everyone else in the casinos.

 

The first time you ever heard of the First Order was during a fathier race, when you were twenty-one. The woman whose company you were keeping for the night mentioned them as one of the organizations she was currently supporting, and how she really shouldn’t have been gambling away her allotted monthly credits on a fathier race that was meant to go to them. You’d put her at ease, and when the races turned in her favor, she gifted you a jeweled bracelet, calling you her good luck charm. She’d earned back nearly twice her gambled amount, and later, you were paid excessively for your company. After that, the First Order came up much more often in conversation in the casinos, to the point that you wondered if they were supporting the city itself. You knew enough about military organizations from the high-ranking officers whose arms you held at the tables that you could only assume the First Order was a means to replace the Galactic Empire. The names you heard sounded like nobility, not the names of military officers, which only furthered your belief that the First Order was nothing to scoff at. 

 

Around the same time as the First Order came to be the most powerful military organization in the galaxy, your reputation spread further, to the Inner Rim planets, all the way to Coruscant, and soon, you were being asked to travel to state dinners and elite events to provide your services. Soon, you were no longer just the most well-paid escort in all of Canto Bight, but you were the most widely known and the most respected of your entire practice, in all of the galaxy. Every holo of you made you look like their equal, like royalty. And in some ways, you were regarded as such. No longer were you the newcomer, struggling to figure out your place in the universe; now, you were the one that others looked up to, who they envied for more than just your looks. In your early teenage years, you spent your days in smugglers’ dens, scrubbing dishes and serving drinks, stealing from tip jars and pockets to get by. While you hated every moment of your life spent allowing others to walk all over you, you were thankful that the worst of your punishments was having your meals taken from you, and not something more horrific or traumatizing. It was no secret that sexual assault was a common punishment for others in your same position.

 

To you, the First Order, while undeniably powerful, crossed your mind very little, even when you caught word of the entire Hosnian System being wiped off the map by one of their bases. While the news did make you think, you were too busy building your reputation further, extending your power over your clients to help them make decisions, to control their people. You prided yourself on education and knowledge of social structures and current events, so you’d never be left behind in conversation, which was another one of your most-discussed qualities. Eloquent escorts were rare, and ones who took the time and effort to educate themselves were even harder to come by. However, most people opted for soft-spoken or even nonverbal escorts to serve solely as decoration, but you made it clear from the start that you would be neither of those things. Having dealt with abusive bosses and patrons for years who forced you to keep your mouth shut only resulted in making you more outspoken the moment you left their establishments. 

 

By the time your twenty-first birthday passed, you had girls just beginning the practice sending you messages, asking for advice in the field and how to build their reputation like you had built yours. It felt odd to you to have a fanbase of sorts, but you told them what you knew, always reminding them that not every tactic worked for everyone, and that they needed to establish themselves as individuals, not copies of you. Individuality was a valued quality in high-class escorts, and it was the key piece of advice you were quick to remind them of. You hated the idea of looks being the biggest defining factor that could make or break an escort’s career, but it was something that would remain alive for the entire time the profession of escort lived. Back in your old agency, you knew others who were less conventionally beautiful whose clients were few and far in between, and those who did hire them for their services had fetishes and fascinations that veered into the unsavory or downright degrading, fixating on their unusual features too much.

 

The first time you ever met General Armitage Hux was sometime around the time the First Order was establishing itself, making its presence known to the galaxy, and there were many of your clients beginning to fund their cause. He’d introduced himself to you while in conversation with your client of the night, a wealthy politician needing an organization to support him in his run for office. General Hux had promised a credible, powerful backing in exchange for funding for their new fleet of TIE fighters, as well as media attention for the Order, and then he’d turned to you, formally introducing himself and kissing the large diamond ring on your middle finger as though you were a princess. The gesture had caught your attention immediately, and his attitude even more so when he’d paid your client a hefty ten thousand credits for your company for the next two hours. It was the first time you’d ever seen a client balk at receiving money, but something about the general was intimidating enough that your client quickly accepted the credits after a few moments of the general staring them down. 

 

For the first time in years, you’d felt your heart jump, your chest tighten when he kissed your hand, and you’d had to control your sudden surge of emotion to smile at him the way you smiled at all of your new prospects, instead of the childish, immature grin that had threatened to take its place. Out of the men in the room, he was one of the most attractive, and he stood out to you the most with his bright coppery-red hair and all-white formal suit, complete with gold epaulettes and shining black boots. He carried himself differently as well, in a way that commanded the attention and respect of every person in the room, and it reminded you of yourself. His icy blue eyes seemed to look through you at first, not at you, and it was enough to make you feel a bit small before you collected yourself to give him your name. Something about him also gave him the impression that he saw himself as royalty in a way, higher than simply the Order he commanded, and it intrigued you. 

 

He’d led you to the maze garden outside the lavish ballroom, commending you not only on your rise to fame, but your influence on your clients, and complimenting you on being an intelligent, worldly-wise courtesan, not just an accessory. You’d complimented him on the Order and his own power, as well as quipping that any military organization that made its way back to you and piquing your interest was impressive in and of itself. Something about General Hux’s interest in you had made pride swell in your chest, made you stand a little taller and straighter. It wasn’t the first time that a young, handsome military officer had taken notice in you, but most of them that you’d met before couldn’t afford your rates, and the ones who could were more interested in your services, not your companionship. General Hux had caught and held your interest so much, that before your two hours was up, you’d asked him to keep in contact with you, not necessarily as a client, but as an acquaintance, and an ally. He promised to keep you updated with the status of the Order, as long as you kept him up to date with the people he’d persuaded to give him the money and respect that he wanted.

 

The general told you about the First Order and how it worked, but the details he shared with you sometimes veered into the more personal side of things, as he described the commanding forces and officers he worked with on a daily basis. He told you about his on-again, off-again relationship with the commander of the Order, a Dark Side Force-sensitive apprentice of their Supreme Leader. You found yourself giving him advice on how to make heads or tails of their relationship, and how to deal with his partner during the most difficult times, as well as how to curb the rivalry they had in pleasing the Supreme Leader himself. It reminded you quite a bit of how many of the girls you used to board with in your old agency often turned against one another in order to please the madams and the agency owners and to turn things to their favor. The advice you gave centered around them working together as a unit, not as individuals, and to gain strength from one another. Two powerful, commanding forces under a higher power almost always succeeded in their ascension and a rise of new command. 

 

There was little time between your first meeting with General Hux and the day you received a formal summons to the newly-repaired ship, the  _ Supremacy.  _ It had only been about a year and a half, and in that time, you had kept in close contact with the general, telling him of your newest clients, whose minds you had influenced into supporting the Order, as shaky as it seemed to be, what with the loss of Starkiller Base. He’d been thankful, and asked if there was something you required in return, such as credits, but you turned him down. In your opinion, there was little you needed when it came to money, but you appreciated his offers. Something about the way he treated you, not as a service, but as an equal, made you feel a surge of genuine affection whenever you thought about him, or when you two were messaging back and forth. While he refrained from using the usual clichéd pet names that you often got from your clients, you liked it better that way. Something about them didn’t fit his personality, and while he was far from stern with you, the idea of it seemed almost out of character for him. 

 

The transport that’s been sent for you is luxurious, rivaling some of the official royal ships of Corellian nobility, and more lavish than the luxury ships that shuttle royalty across Coruscant. Inside, it resembles a penthouse suite, not a starship, and two guards dressed in all black flank the door. According to your flight information, the  _ Supremacy  _ is only a few minutes away, waiting in an undisclosed location somewhere in the Outer Rim. Since leaving Canto Bight, where you’d been visiting a few agencies in your down time, General Hux had been keeping you up to date on the status of the Order. The most interesting bit of information was that Supreme Leader Snoke was dead, usurped by his own apprentice, who you had yet to meet. In the general’s messages, he’d explained that he was bringing you to the  _ Supremacy _ not as a guest, but as a permanent resident. Word of your reputation had spread to the new Supreme Leader, likely from the general’s messages being intercepted in some way, and as a result, your company had not only been requested, but required. 

 

Until the general had explained it all to you, you’d been wary to step into the transport sent for you, since the entire idea of it seemed like you were being bought, not summoned. Luckily, General Hux was quick to put you at ease, explaining that the credits transferred to you were not to buy you, but to free you, in a way. He explained that as long as you stayed with the Order, you would be provided for in every way you wished, and you could continue living lavishly, as his and the Supreme Leader’s companion. The title definitely wasn’t unfamiliar to you, but something about the way the general worded it made you sound more like a spouse, and not just a companion to accompany them to events and around the ships, and the idea of being looked at with even more status was enticing to you. After that, you had no issue boarding your transport and willingly accepting the summons. 

 

The dress you wear is one of your favorites, the soft red lace and floral details that make up the top framing your bust artfully, the near-invisible mesh creating a blush on your skin everywhere the details don’t cover. Most of your back is exposed, framed with more floral details, and the full, fluffy skirt decorated with more lace flowers made of layers upon layers of the same sheer mesh that make up the top of the dress flows out behind you in a two-foot long train with a high slit up one side. Your hair is in an elaborate half-up style, decorated with fresh red flowers, and your shoes are gold, the architectural style of them an interesting contrast to the softness of your dress. While the red dress wasn’t your first choice to wear to meet the newly-knighted Supreme Leader, you had opted for something that didn’t reflect your reputation too closely. You liked an air of deception when meeting new people, leaving them wondering how you could be what you were when you looked the way you did, and you knew that the many bondage-style black dresses in your wardrobe would give it away much too quickly. Not only that, but a part of you thought it might be inappropriate to wear something so bold to meet someone of his status for the first time. 

 

The transport shudders, and then hovers as you feel it lower slowly to the ground, and there’s the smooth sound of the doors opening, the two guards parting to let you pass. As soon as the ramp lowers, you’re greeted by a large group of officers, General Hux front and center, a slight smile on his face. You lower your head, out of respect, before taking his hand and allowing him to lead you down the ramp, the two guards following closely behind. A pair of droids hurry up the ramp, presumably to recover all your belongings and take them to your rooms. The general’s cool leather gloves are smooth against your hand, and you take his arm as you do with any other client as he leads you out of the hangar bay and into an elevator. He wears a similar formal white suit to the one he wore when you first met, this one with a billowing white cape and more medals and pins on his tunic. Even in your heels, you’re still a good bit shorter than he is, and you find yourself still looking up at him to speak. Both black-clad guards stand behind the two of you in the elevator, leading you to believe they’re more than just guards. 

 

“The  _ Supremacy _ lives up to its name,” you say. “I almost feel as though I should have a bit more status to be on board.” 

 

“Believe me, I think you more than qualify to be amongst any of us,” General Hux says. “You might be the only one on board whose reputation precedes you, other than the leader of our trooper squadrons. I can see to it that you meet her as well; Captain Phasma is usually not one for meeting my guests, but I know she’d at least like to meet you properly, seeing as I’ve spoken about you frequently.”   
  
“I’m flattered, General, sir,” you say, feeling the now-familiar surge of pride swell in your chest. “Knowing you speak of me on a near-daily basis must mean I hold more value to you than simply an ally of the Order.”

 

“Most courtesans would simply be passing topics of conversation in the down time allotted for our officers, but not only does your reputation surpass even the most famous holostars, you caught the eye and ear of our new Supreme Leader, a feat that only few have accomplished.” His smirk doesn’t escape your notice, and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. 

 

“There’s no need to be humble, Sir,” you say, laughing softly. “I know just as much as you do that you’re the  _ only  _ one that caught your leader’s eye in the past twenty-nine years. And I have no intention of replacing either of you.” 

 

General Hux raises an eyebrow, and yours furrow as you’re confused for the first time all night. Something in his expression conveys a differing opinion than your own, and you don’t quite understand why he could disagree with your statement. You press your lips together, blinking quickly as you recover, trying to read what he’s trying to say. 

 

“Have I misspoken?” you ask. “Forgive me, but I do not want to be here to replace either of you in your relationship. In my work, I supplant, but I do not replace.” 

 

“You have not misspoken at all,” General Hux answers, sounding amused. “No, I was simply...impressed. Most escorts I’ve ever met never acknowledge their place in their clients’ lives, and certainly not with as much awareness as you do.” 

 

“I can only hope to know my place in this universe with as much clarity as I can gather from those around me,” you say. “I’ve been told what my place is before, but I would rather be corrected than ordered to be one thing or another.”

 

“As someone who spent their childhood being expected to live up to their father’s aspirations and wishes, and was told they would never amount to anything in the Order, I know all about being told where my place is supposed to be.” The look on his face is soft, vulnerable, and you wonder if you’ve unintentionally brought up unsavory memories. However, you don’t get a chance to apologize when the elevator doors open. 

 

Directly ahead is a pair of elaborately detailed doors, and around you, the floor and walls seem to melt into one, a sea of sleek, reflective black. The guards edge around you, each of them taking one handle of the doors and opening them in one smooth, fluid motion, revealing an ominous, opulent throne room. Inside, the walls are red, the floor the same mirrored black as outside, and as the general leads you inside, you feel intimidated and small, something you haven’t felt in years. While you feel no less welcome, you feel as though you should be kneeling or bowing before the man who sits on the throne. More guards dressed in black line the walls, each holding a more menacing-looking weapon than the one before, but all stand eerily still, like statues. But it is not them that you’re focused on. 

  
  


The Supreme Leader emanates power and status and seduction, control and rage and the Force itself, and his focus is entirely on you as you sink to one knee, your head bowed. There have only been a handful of times previously that you’ve ever bowed before a client, but each time, they were royalty, and your gesture was out of respect of their status. This is the first time you’ve ever felt truly compelled to kneel out of intimidation, and as you raise your eyes to meet his, you find you have trouble holding his gaze. His eyes are dark, like the oceans at night, framed with layers of dark lashes, striking and a sharp contrast to his pale skin. His lips are full, plush, and curved into a slight smile, and his face is dotted with moles, little stars in a pale sky. His hair is an inky black, messy, falling in luxurious, voluminous waves to his broad shoulders. His nose is the most prominent feature on his face, elegant and aquiline, next to the thin scar that runs from the top of his right brow to his jaw, and everything about him commands respect, from his posture to the look on his face as he studies you. 

 

“Grand Marshal, I had no idea you’d be able to get her here so quickly,” he purrs, the baritone of his voice sending chills through you, something you hadn’t felt in years. Few beings had ever succeeded in making you feel so intimidated, but the Supreme Leader is quick to top the list of them all. The way he addresses the general makes you wonder if the promotion is just now being told to Hux himself, or if it was something he failed to mention to you prior to your summons. 

 

“Rise, escort,” the Supreme Leader says, his voice still low, seductive. Slowly, you stand, fluffing and straightening your skirts as your eyes meet his once more. You find it difficult to hold his gaze, which radiates power in its intensity, and you briefly find yourself at a loss for words before you dare to reply. 

 

“Supreme Leader,” you say, imitating his tone. “The Grand Marshal has told me much about you in our messages. You are a man of ambition, I can see, given as you’ve usurped and claimed your former master’s position of power for yourself. It is a feat that I cannot help but admire, as few who I have met in my line of work could say the same for themselves. Most usurpers I have met have been jealous siblings, younger rivals, bitter enemies of the current heads of state and royalty that they displaced. But a former apprentice taking the place of his master is a first.”   
  
The Supreme Leader stands, his elegant black robes only enhancing his height as he towers over you by more than a foot, easily, and one of his massive hands raises to touch your cheek, his fingers a bit rough as they brush your skin. Your eyes are focused on him as he studies you more closely, and you struggle to read his expression, which you place somewhere between curiosity and hunger. In all your years in your line of work, you’ve never had more trouble placing a person than you do the Supreme Leader. He’s many different things all at once, in a different way than most people are that you’ve met. While similar, you find that his unique qualities set him apart from your other clients in a way you’ve never encountered before. 

 

“The Grand Marshal has told me about the ally he met on Coruscant, but I would have never guessed he meant you,” the Supreme Leader says. “Your reputation more than precedes you, and I know enough about you that I’m sure you know why you’ve been summoned.” 

 

“Most in my line of work do not educate themselves the way I do,” you reply. “But if you are wondering, then yes, I do know. The Grand Marshal made my new place clear, and I can only gather that our meeting is to settle what few things we must before we come to our arrangement.” 

 

“Eloquent and educated,” the Supreme Leader says, not to you, but to Hux. “You must have been stunned.” 

 

“I prefer the word  _ impressed _ , but yes, Supreme Leader Ren, I was. She seemed the perfect third piece to add to our...arrangement.” Grand Marshal Hux glances at you briefly, before his attention returns to the Supreme Leader. “It seemed appropriate that we have someone do what we cannot when it comes to convincing others in a less threatening manner.”

 

The Supreme Leader scoffs, as though Hux’s implication is absurd, and he takes your arm, links it with his before you can do it yourself. The gesture is sudden and unexpected, and you flounder for a moment before you collect yourself and allow him to lead you and Hux from the throne room, into the hall and down a corridor. Just like the throne room, the entire floor is opulent and richly decorated, reminiscent of Old Empire interior design. You feel like a child being led, due to the height difference, but the Supreme Leader walks slowly, allowing you to keep up at a comfortable pace. Hux flanks you on your right side silently as the Supreme Leader speaks. 

 

“Little One, do you know the story of how my master fell?” the Supreme Leader asks, and though you know he knows the answer, you shake your head to indulge him. “Snoke cultivated Ben Solo, the boy I once was, into his own twisted creation, to what he wished to be: young, powerful, and passionate. His influence began when I was but a child, and it progressed to the point that I left the old order, to join his, and to become the master of the Knights of Ren, and his new and only apprentice. He renamed me, made me into Kylo Ren, and gave me everything I needed to destroy him. 

 

“Once I realized the deception, the trickery he led me to believe was right, that was meant to progress my own power and influence was false, I had no further need of him or his teachings, and I began to seek to destroy him, to suffer under his demands no longer. His life will fade into distant memory, while my legacy will be recorded for the generations of the Dark Side to garner from. But your story, I presume, is much more than it seems. So tell me, how did a girl from Parmarthe manage to become the most well-known and well-respected escort in the entire Known Universe?”

 

You press your lips together for a moment while you try and figure out how to word it all without making it too long or adding too many unnecessary details. “My parents were pilots, and while Parmarthe is expected to make pilots, I wanted more for myself. There was more to the universe than flying for me, and the moment I could and with training I had, I took a ship for myself and left one night, never to look back. I found myself working for the next three years in smugglers’ dens, in their kitchens as their errand girl, and allowing my owners to walk over me because it was the only way I could find my way out one day without a bounty on my head. 

 

“When I turned of age, I took my ship and flew it straight to Canto Bight, to the city I’d only heard of in passing, the one that occupied my dreams as though I were a child once more. Something about its grand—if gaudy—opulence drew me closer to it, and in the blind hope I had, I thought that I could gamble and win enough to ensure my future happiness. It turned out that all I ensured was four years that would shape what reputation I have now, the first two of which I spent in an agency with less freedom than I had as a kitchen girl. But as I got older and watched more and more of us being replaced, abused, taken advantage of by not only the clients we were forced to serve, but our owners as well, I wanted out. I wanted to make my own decisions, I wanted to serve the clients I wanted and I wanted to serve myself, and I wanted to feel a little safe in my profession. Being their escort with the highest rates, I had earned enough for myself to leave them as well, and to find my happiness in serving myself in doing what I wanted. 

 

“The years went on, and I worked my way to the top by associating with the right people, at the right times, in the right places. It’s about who you know, which I don’t always agree with, but the unfairness of my profession is something that will never be truly fixed. But educating myself and learning about the social issues, as well as making an active effort to have my own opinions on what my clients discussed with their partners piqued interests with others, and soon, I was forced to charge by the hour, not the day. I suppose the unique combination with a stereotypically sexually-driven profession, combined with my own independence and intelligence, attracted the attention I needed to become known for not only what I did, but for setting a new standard for escorts working alone and with agencies.”   
  
A brief moment of silence passes as you take in Kylo Ren’s reaction to your testimony, but you’re relieved to find that there is not a hint of annoyance in his expression. Rather, he seems riveted, as though he waits to hear you tell more. Your eyes flicker briefly to his lips, and just as quickly, you look back to his eyes, which are fixated on you and you alone. A hint of a smile crosses your lips as you’re acutely aware of him stroking the fingers of the hand wrapped around his arm with his own. The last thing you anticipated was an affectionate gesture, and it catches you off guard for a moment before you collect yourself. It’s unusual for you to have a man, especially, react to your opinions in a positive way.  

 

“I won’t lie to you—escorts have always interested me,” he says. “Your lives have no routine, you cross paths with the most influential beings in the galaxy, and you hear their innermost, most intimate thoughts. It is unlikely that most know the power they hold; with the information disclosed to them, they could topple empires. You are not bound by law or contract to keep secrets, you are freely given some of the most important information in the form of pillowtalk, in the hope that you won’t leave them or laugh when they speak.” 

 

It’s a stunning statement, since many others who have told you they admire you often tell you they wish they could be paid to sleep with wealthy beings and be paid to do it, and that they wished they could make ten times what they did in a normal job by doing what they thought of as next to nothing. Kylo Ren’s view on your life makes it seem like something so much more, the way you see your profession—as an art. It’s not a secret that while one half of the universe admires and envies you, the other thinks of you as nothing more than a two-dimensional prostitute, replaceable and forgettable, homewreckers and what tears families apart. What they don’t know—and what keeps their words from affecting you greatly—is that you know you are much more. You are an actress, a courtesan, an entertainer, a performer, and sometimes, you are their shoulder to cry on, who they count on to turn an ear to, when their deepest thoughts and desires and dreams slip in the early hours of the morning while they transfer your credits. The years you spent building your reputation you also spent learning the nature of humanity, and lack thereof. 

 

“You might be the first person besides the Grand Marshal who sees it from my point of view,” you say. “Most think of me only as their toy or the reason why their significant other won’t visit their bedroom anymore.”   
  
“Powerful beings such as ourselves are never seen for what they truly are,” Kylo says as he stops in front of a door, more subtle than the throne room doors but just as finely made. He waves his hand, and the doors slide open silently, revealing a spacious, opulent suite decorated in red and black and grey. Lights flicker on on the ceiling and by the baseboards, spotlighting the relics of the Old Empire and the tapestries decorating the walls. For a moment, you’re in awe, but Kylo leads you inside, gesturing to the low black couch that sits in a lowered space opposite the massive bed. Hux takes your hand as Kylo disappears into the bathroom, presumably to freshen up, and you’re led down two steps as Hux invites you to sit. 

 

“He’s a bit imposing, is he not?” he asks, a trace of humor in his voice. “Forgive me, I think that perhaps I should have dragged him to the ball where we met so he wouldn’t intimidate you so much.”    
  


“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassure him. “He’s wonderful. I can see what drew you to him in the first place.”

  
For a brief moment, you swear that you can see a light blush on Hux’s cheeks, before he smiles to himself and looks away from you. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you agreed to come. I find it difficult to curb all his emotions and needs myself, not to mention that I am nowhere near as skilled as you are. Not to mention how much I myself desired your presence here.”

 

Gently, you raise your hand to brush your fingertips across his cheek, and he catches your hand, holds it in place. It’s your initial gesture you always do to test your client’s emotions, where they are mentally. Reactions have ranged from fingertip kisses to sprained wrists from grips too tight, but Hux’s returning gesture suggests a suppressed need for affection, and perhaps a longing for something more than simply a physical relationship. His grip is gentle, a very light pressure that makes you wonder if he thinks he might break you if he tries to keep you there. 

 

“Grand Marshal,” you say softly. “You won’t be alone anymore.”

 

When Hux’s lips touch yours, it’s feather-soft and so gentle that you wonder just how many times he’s allowed himself to be this vulnerable around someone else. While he is far from inexperienced, he is in no way demanding, and it’s made clear to you that he most likely never takes the dominant role in his relationships. He kisses very similarly to some of your younger clients, the ones who have only had one or two partners prior to meeting you. His fingers interlock with yours, his hands warm, steady. For a few long moments, you let him kiss you, let him control the pace, before you kiss back with a little more intensity than his own, just enough to encourage him. It takes him a moment to reciprocate, but when he does, it’s sweet, just enough feeling there to convey his needs. 

 

You’ve lost yourself so much in the kiss that when you feel the couch dip behind you, you startle for a moment before you feel Kylo’s hands at your shoulders, his lips at your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses at your throat. His hair tickles your skin as he slides his hands down, the heat of his palms burning against your skin through your dress. You pull away from Hux to press your forehead to his as he tries to catch your lips again. One of Kylo’s hands leaves your waist to take Hux’s free hand and intertwine their fingers. Hux sighs quietly, his eyes closing as you lean in to kiss him again. Behind you, Kylo’s arm slides across your stomach, his hand resting gently on your waist as he holds you against his chest. Hux leans forward, shifting on the couch so he can be closer to the both of you as he kisses you. 

 

“Bed?” Kylo whispers to you, and you nod, but you squeeze Hux’s hand in yours, a silent question as you gauge if that’s what he wants, too. His nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s there, and you pull away, his hand still holding yours. You hate to let go of him before he’s ready to let go of you, but as Kylo allows you to stand as he lets go of him as well, you pull Hux to his feet and unclip his white cape from his shoulders. Slowly, you unfasten the gold buttons of his tunic as he reaches for the small button at the nape of your neck. Kylo’s hands glide over your hips as Hux slides the top of your dress from your shoulders, his movements slow, deliberate. You push his tunic off his shoulders and he steps away from you just enough to slip his boots off before returning to you to help Kylo pull your dress past your hips, letting it fall in a fiery puddle of mesh and flowers. 

 

Underneath your dress, you wear only a pair of lace underwear, the style of the dress not made for a bra, and Kylo’s hands on your waist slide up to cup your breasts as he nuzzles your cheek. Hux’s eyes are focused completely on you as you beckon him closer again, pull him close for another kiss as his hands go to your hips. Kylo leans over you to press a gentle kiss to Hux’s temple, and you feel him sigh into the kiss. As Hux pulls away, you feel Kylo’s arm curving around your waist again, pulling you away, towards the steps. You let him lead you to the massive bed, but you’re quick to slow him down as you pull at his clothes, too. Almost as if it’s a routine, Hux is right there to help you ease Kylo out of his heavy robes and boots, and as more and more of him is revealed to you, the more stunned you are. Old scars map his body, from his shoulders to his thighs, dotted with even more moles. 

 

Behind you, you hear the rustle of fabric as Hux rids himself of his pants and underwear, and his arms are around you again as you both watch Kylo rid himself of the last bit of his clothing. It’s impossible to take your eyes off him as he sits on the edge of the bed and extends a hand to you, pulling you and Hux closer to him. His fingers curl into the sides of your underwear before he tears the soft lace, tosses the scraps to the floor. His hands cover Hux’s at your hips as he pulls you into his lap, Hux helping to guide you so Kylo’s cock is right at your cunt, the heat of him against you almost too intense. 

 

“Beautiful,” Kylo purrs. “Ride me, Little One, and I can give you everything you deserve.”

 

Slowly, Hux guides you onto Kylo’s cock, letting you feel the stretch of him in you as you sink down. Kylo’s moan is luxurious as he feels you clench around him, and you wrap your arms around his neck as Hux presses you down further until you’re sitting flush with Kylo’s hips. Your breaths come short as you attempt to breathe, Kylo’s sheer length and girth like nothing you’ve ever taken before. You press your forehead to his as he begins to grind his hips into yours, a gentle growl escaping him as he feels your wet heat around him. His thrusts are slow, letting you feel the stretch of him inside you, and the smug smile on his face at your breathlessness is almost infuriating. It’s the first time you’ve felt as though you weren’t completely in control, but the loss of power doesn’t make you want him any less. 

 

As Hux kisses your cheek, your temple, the top of your head, his fingers are at your cunt, sliding in beside Kylo’s cock, stretching you further, before you feel the head of his cock pressing at your cunt. You can’t help the whine that he elicits from you as he slides in, slowly, beside Kylo. At first, he alternates his thrusts with Kylo, which leaves you short of breath and overwhelmed, but his fingers on your clit make you yelp as your cunt flutters wildly around both of them as you feel your orgasm approaching. Hux begins to thrust faster, matching his speed with Kylo’s thrusts, as Kylo’s hands wrap around your thighs, giving you no choice but to take it as he and Hux bring you closer and closer to orgasm. You bury your face in his neck as you whine, and Hux laughs softly from behind you, one of his hands tangled in your hair.

 

“Are you going to cum for us, Little One?” Kylo asks as Hux rubs at your clit harder, purring in your ear. 

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” is all you can manage before you cum with a moan, soaking their cocks and shivering as you slump against Kylo’s chest. Hux’s fingers are still on your clit, pushing you into a second, less intense orgasm, into overstimulation as he and Kylo chase their own releases. Your thighs shake as you struggle to close them, but Kylo’s grip is too strong to allow you any resistance. 

 

Hux’s thrusts slow, then stutter, as he cums, his purrs turning to gentle growls in your ear as he grinds his hips against your ass, trying to get deeper. He rests his head against the back of yours, his hand slowly untangling from your hair to cup your cheek and turn you towards him in order to kiss you. Kylo’s pace slows not long after as he cums, gently thrusting up into you as he breathes shakily, his iron grip on your thighs no more as he rests one hand on your lower back, the other sliding into Hux’s hair around you. For a long time, the three of you stay like that, in each other’s arms, before Hux lets you go. He slides out of you first, followed by Kylo, as you stand shakily, their cum running down your thighs. You aren’t aware of Hux leaving the room briefly, but you are aware of the towel he brings you to clean yourself with. 

 

You’re still in a haze when Hux leads you to the left side of the bed and turns down the covers for you, Kylo already having tucked himself in on the right side. Lazily, you slide between the covers, curling up against Kylo as Hux joins you, his arms curling around you as his legs tangle with yours. Kylo rolls over, purring gently as he snuggles up to you and watches you and Hux through heavy-lidded eyes. He brushes your cheek with one hand, before reaching for Hux, who kisses his fingertips when Kylo gets close. 

 

“The perfect triumvirate,” Kylo murmurs. “Now, there will be no one to stand in our way.”    
  


Hux buries his face in your neck as he laughs softly, his arms around you pulling you closer to him. “You never fail to remind us all of your ambitions, even after sex.” 

 

“That was simply a statement of fact, it had little to do with my own ambitions,” Kylo replies sleepily as he  snuggles closer to you. 

 

“You bicker like you’re already married,” you tease them, and while Hux sighs, Kylo just laughs a little. 

 

“We have tomorrow to talk about my ambitions, despite how much Hux pretends to hate it.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so if you're here it means that you made it to the end, to which I want to thank you! please leave me a comment or kudo if you liked it, it helps my motivation infinitely because I can't always subside on spite writing fics. ❤ 
> 
> [yell at me on tumblr](http://bensolosren.tumblr.com/)


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